


Strangers In The Night.

by sasha_dragon



Category: Supernatural, White Collar
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-19
Updated: 2011-10-19
Packaged: 2017-10-24 19:03:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_dragon/pseuds/sasha_dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sam has turned his back on hunting, Dean has continued to fight the coming Apocalypse.  Exhausted, lonely and hurting he sits in a New York bar, a dark haired stranger walks through the door and by the morning helps give him the strength to keep fighting on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strangers In The Night.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own either Supernatural or White Collar, no matter how much I wish I did. These wonderful characters belong to other people, although I would happily give a home to Dean and Neal.  
> Notes: This story was born of a conversation about how hot Jensen and Matt would be together, what started as PWP, became, a tale of Dean set early season five, after Sam had gone and before The End. I take the blame for this entirely, and will protect the identity of the person who inspired this, please direct all torch welding mobs to me, thank you. As always many thanks go to bigj52 my truly awesome beta.
> 
> First posted on Live journal on 25th September 2010.

Dean sat on the bar stool, a shot of whiskey in front of him. He’d been nursing the same drink for the last thirty minutes. He didn’t want to get drunk tonight, just like he didn’t want to be alone, but Sam had gone again. Telling Dean he was done with hunting; that he didn’t want to be Lucifer’s vessel and he was done fighting the coming Apocalypse.

Dean couldn’t help but still feel a little angry with Sam; all he’d wanted was time to get his head round Sam’s betrayal with Ruby. He knew that Sam thought what he was doing was right, but fuck, he’d been warned by him, angels and as it turned out, Pamela and still he continued. But Sam hadn’t been prepared to wait for Dean to regain his equilibrium, and had walked away while Dean had struggled to just forgive and forget. After the way he’d treated him like crap he really couldn’t blame him for wanting to be anywhere but where his screw-up of a big brother was. Dean felt as if he was drowning under an ocean of guilt and grief, so he’d thrown himself at every hunt that had come his way. From werewolves to vampires, vengeful spirits to demons, Dean had become an unstoppable force, never resting, always pushing forward. Cas was bringing more and more fuglies to Dean’s attention in an attempt to stop the end of the world, and now with the Enochian sigils carved into his ribs, his and Cas’ only contact was by phone.

The phone which was now switched off in his jacket pocket - it had to happen, Dean was crashing, burning out, and it had come to a head in New York of all places. He had just finished toasting a Raw Head; he had stopped in a random bar for a drink and to just take some time to catch his breath. His phone had rung and when he saw ‘Cas’ flash up on the display, Dean had started to bring the phone up to answer when he saw his hand was shaking. He looked at himself in the mirror behind the bar and Dean wasn’t sure if he recognized himself. His face was pale and gaunt, there were dark smudges under his eyes and he looked worn out.

He sat and stared at himself and in one decisive movement he turned the phone off and slipped it into his pocket; the world could survive without him for one night. He lowered his head and looked at nothing in particular. He had never felt so alone, and yet less than five feet in any direction there were people surrounding him, but as far as Dean was concerned he may as well be in the bar alone.

He slowly turned the shot glass round and round in his fingers. He really should get back to his motel room and clean himself up, yet more bruises to add to his collection plus a healthy set of claw marks from his last hunt that had yet to heal fully. But he couldn’t bring himself to go back to the roach-infested room alone, knowing his sleep would be disturbed, that is, if he slept at all. Dean glanced round the bar at the women there; he knew even looking as tired as he did he was the best-looking guy in the bar. He wasn’t being immodest, just honest; he had no real competition in the room tonight. He could have his pick of the women in the room. There was the blonde with the business suit who kept shooting him lust-filled glances, the brunette in the green dress who had openly checked him out as he sat down. Dean could go on, but he didn’t feel like giving chase tonight.

He went back to his contemplation of the amber liquid in the glass and let his mind wander. Just then the bar door opened. Dean lifted his eyes to see who had come in, thankful of his long girly eyelashes that Sam frequently mocked him for; the thought brought a smile to his lips at the memory. He looked through his eyelashes at the new arrival and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw.

The man was six foot in height, dressed impeccably, a man with natural style and grace. Black wavy hair longer than Dean’s but shorter than Sam’s. From beneath his lashes Dean could just see a faint smile grace the man’s features as he scanned the room. He had paused as he entered, a natural enough gesture but Dean could tell he was checking the room out - finding exits, easy escape routes sizing up threats to himself. In a matter of seconds he had threat assessed the room, checking out the ladies as he went. Dean was sizing the man up himself; he was a predator, although he didn’t give off the vibe of one of his kind of predators. Also he didn’t strike Dean as a violent man. He sensed the man could defend himself if need be, but he preferred to use brain rather than brawn. Dean surmised he was a thief and a charming one at that, the kind of man who could steal your soul away even as you willingly handed over your diamonds. Suddenly Dean’s evening looked a little brighter.

As Neal walked into the bar he was trying to rid himself of the frustration that had built up over the course of the last few days. He and Peter had clashed over their latest case and once again Peter was failing to trust the con man and thief. Neal was angry because, again, a vital clue to finding Kate had been snatched away from him. This wasn’t his usual kind of bar, it wasn’t trendy or filled with beautiful people. It was a quiet bar - the place office workers went to end their day. It was right on the edge of Neal’s electronic tether - a petty gesture that would annoy Peter but at this moment in time he would take any small victory he could.

Neal felt restless. He wanted some company tonight, maybe a willing warm body to go to sleep next to and say an easy goodbye to the next morning. It had been a long time since he’d felt a need like this, not since he had been with Kate. His eyes had swept the room and he knew there wasn’t a woman in here he couldn’t leave with, but he couldn’t do that to Kate. He knew it was still cheating with a man but he would feel better about sleeping with a man rather than a woman.

Neal didn’t see the problem of spending the night with a man, sex was sex. He was flexible about gender when it came to physical connections. It had gotten him close to some of his biggest marks and it was something that Peter had yet to figure out about him. Neal had then turned his attention to the men in the room; there were several likely candidates, physically appealing. Then a figure caught his eyes not because he moved but quite the opposite. In fact, it was the man’s stillness that caught Neal’s attention.

He allowed his gaze to sweep nonchalantly over the hunched figure at the bar, broad shouldered, but he couldn’t make out much more about the body due to the black trench coat he wore. Neal checked out the man’s clothes, cheap suit and shoes - a uniform rather than what he was comfortable wearing. Then Neal was aware of a prickling sensation between his shoulders, his fight or flight radar picking up another predator in the room. He was being watched. Neal walked in cautiously, feeling no aggression from the watcher, just a mild curiosity. He relaxed a little as he approached the bar, realizing there was someone in here tracking him. The night could be looking up, after all.

Neal reached the bar and got onto the bar stool next to the man in the black trench coat. Under the pretence of looking at what was on offer to drink he focused his gaze on the mirror and used it to look at the man he sat by. He’d been right in his assessment of his clothes, perfunctory, no real style as if the man had no interest. Neal felt that was a shame now he managed to get a closer look at him. Athletic build, possibly taller than himself, he held himself with an air of watchfulness and Neal knew that this was the man who had been watching him.

Neal turned his head slightly. To a casual observer it was so he could catch the eye of the bartender, but it gave him the chance to get a better look at his bar-stool neighbour. The head was bowed and he was slowly turning a shot glass round and round, watching intently as the whiskey inside of it swirled with the movement. Neal examined his profile. It was almost classical - a straight nose, with full lips, high cheekbones, with a strong jaw line. There was a smattering of freckles he could discern, even in this light. The longest eyelashes Neal had ever seen captured his attention, and there was a half-smile playing on his lips.

While Neal had been studying Dean, Dean had returned the favour. When he had sat down by him Dean took the chance to look at him - medium build, his expensive suit fitting him perfectly when he undid his coat. When he had tried to attract the bartender’s attention Dean lifted his eyes and used the mirror to take a good look. The man was gorgeous - light-blue eyes that burnt with intelligence, fine features that wouldn’t look out of place on a top male model. It was the way he was at ease with himself that held Dean’s attention. He wondered if the man was looking for company. To Dean, sex was a simple physical release, and he tended to take where it was offered. With women, even the trashiest of them there was the dance of courtship, lies and pretence. Right at this time Dean didn’t have the energy for that, he just didn’t want to be alone tonight. He wondered how to approach the man next to him.

The bartender nodded to Neal and approached him, “What’ll it be, then?”

“Whiskey, please, no ice.” Dean shivered slightly at the man’s voice, a pleasant melodic sound. He wondered what it would sound like calling out his name.

The whiskey soon appeared in front of Neal and for a few moments he emulated Dean’s glass, turning before taking a drink, “Whoa, that’s pretty... yeah.” Neal’s eyes watered at the taste of the cheap whiskey, causing the man next to him to smile. Even in profile that smile transformed his face, crinkles appeared at his eyes, and the full lips twitched in amusement at his reaction to the drink.

Neal bit his lip, watching the other man carefully. There was an air of danger about him. He’d seen his type before, a fighter, maybe even a killer, but it was coupled with an air of weariness as if he carried a heavy burden on those shoulders of his. He reminded Neal of a wolf, sleek, powerful, a hunter, but one that was separated from his pack, lost and alone, with nowhere to call home.

Neal stared at his drink in silence. For once he didn’t want to plan meticulously, he just wanted to feel; to be in the now; let tomorrow take care of itself; to lose himself in another human being’s embrace. He was hoping he read the way the man’s eyes had followed him across the room correctly and how carefully he watched him now.

“There is a bottle of thirty-year-old single malt back at my apartment, and two glasses.” Neal turned to look at the other man, ready to step back if he read the situation wrong. For a few seconds nothing happened then the man straightened up and turned to look at Neal.

It took nearly all of Neal’s self control not to just let his jaw drop - the man was simply stunning. Had he been around in Renaissance Italy he would have sparked a war between the great artists over who would paint him or have him model for a sculpture. Although, if it came down to it, he thought Michelangelo would take Da Vinci in a fight. He always had the impression that Michelangelo would fight dirty; in fact, it stirred in Neal a desire to draw him. Beauty like that shouldn’t be allowed to just fade and vanish from the world. Now he had seen him properly, Neal was determined to continue with the pursuit if his advance was welcome.

Dean smirked back at the man, his eyes coming to life at the sound of his voice. The smirk was cocky, answering the other man’s challenge, “You’re pretty sure of yourself? I could be waiting for someone.”

Neal fought the urge to offer a cheesy comeback. Instead he levelled at intense look at the man, “No, I don’t think so. I just don’t want to drink alone tonight and I’m sure you feel the same.” He set the words down like a challenge, waiting to see if it would be accepted. Even at this stage either man could break away, no harm, no foul.

He watched as the other man considered the implication of the offer, working out strategies, places where he should be, whether it was safe. Neal knew the moment the man mind up his mind, the tension that had sat on his shoulders just seemed to melt away. His green eyes had lowered and he licked nervously at his lips, but decision made he looked back at Neal. The smirk was back, not as cocky, but there.

Neal felt it would at least be polite to tell the man he was taking home for sex his name. He held out his hand. “Hi, I’m Neal, Neal Caffrey. He gave a smile as he spoke, surprising himself when he used his real name when he had so many aliases at his disposal. Tonight he didn’t want to struggle to recall his name, and he wanted to focus his attention on his companion.

Dean took the offered hand and shook it, “Well, hi there, Neal. I’m Dean Winchester.” Dean gave Neal his real name without a moment’s hesitation. He’d seen the tracking anklet Neal was wearing when he’d sat down and Dean was checking him out. The fact that Neal was so relaxed told him they weren’t going to be interrupted by cops or Feds anytime soon, and if things got really hairy then he’d use his one call to ring Cas and bamf the hell out of Dodge and deal with the pissed-off angel later.

When they had shook hands Neal had felt the strength in the grip, not crushing or trying to prove a point. The hand was roughened from physical work, at odds with the suit Dean wore; Neal was fascinated by the man seated beside him. He’d enjoy tonight and not just for the physical aspect, but for the chance to study Dean.

“Shall we? Unless you want another drink here?” Neal motioned to the drink Dean held in his hand, he swiftly picked up the glass and drained it in one swallow.

“No, I’m good to go, if you are.” Dean’s voice was deep and whisky roughened, but Neal found it as sexy as the rest of the man. He was also intrigued by Dean’s attitude; he’d expected more machismo from him, the alpha wolf in charge. Instead there was hesitancy as if Neal would walk away if Dean didn’t obey orders; the man was a paradox and becoming more fascinating by the second.

“After you, then.” Neal slid from his stool and made a gesture towards the door. Dean smiled in return and started to walk towards the door just in front of Neal. He watched as Dean walked away; he moved with an easy grace and swagger, a gunslinger’s walk. They reached the door and Neal moved close, pressing gently against Dean. He reached over to open the door for him, and the reason was twofold. Firstly, it was to get close - a chance to brush against Dean in a mostly innocent gesture and more importantly, to check him for weapons. In a matter of seconds Neal had discovered the gun in his waistband, at least one knife and he suspected there would be more, but this didn’t deter him from taking Dean home with him.

Dean looked over his shoulder as Neal opened the door for him, “My, such a gentleman. Are you sure you feel safe with me?” Dean grinned, fluttering his eyes lashes comically.

As they stepped outside, Neal leaned in even closer and whispered, “The real question is, are you safe with me?” Dean shivered at the heat in those words, and his heart sped up. Neal fell into step beside him, walking close, but not too close. To anyone watching it looked as if two friends were out for an evening stroll.

As they walked few words were exchanged. Neal constantly watched and assessed Dean, and he could tell that Dean had not lied to him during their brief conversations. That he was passing through after finishing a job in New York, and he would be gone by tomorrow; his work took him all over and that he had no attachments. He had sounded wistful when he had admitted that, but that brief moment had passed and Dean had leered at Neal and winked.

When they arrived at June’s, Dean had stared at the house in astonishment. Neal smiled easily, “It’s not mine; I live in the annex. I hope you don’t mind slumming it.” Dean had thrown back his head and laughed, a genuine relaxed smile lighting up his face and Neal committed it to memory. Dean had many expressions and he was enjoying cataloguing them.

They walked quietly through the opulent home, Dean’s eyes roving everywhere. Neal led him to his apartment and let them inside. Closing the door behind them, Neal waited to see what Dean would do. Part of him expected to have his clothes ripped off and find himself being ravaged on the table, but again, that slight hesitancy in Dean; he waited to see what Neal would do. Neal found it exhilarating to be the aggressor in this situation. He walked forward and called over his shoulder as he peeled off his coat and hung it up.

“Take your coat off and get comfortable. I’ll go get us those drinks.” As he moved towards where the single malt was, he turned his back to Dean. He was allowing Dean the chance to disarm himself without being too obvious. When Neal returned with the drinks Dean had also taken off his jacket and slightly loosened his tie. He hadn’t sat down. Neal offered him the drink and Dean took it but instead of tossing it right back he took a sip, savouring the burn of the liquor as it slipped down, licking at his lips to capture every last drop.

Neal emulated Dean’s action and considered that in his line of work it was imperative that he could read people; at times his life had depended on it. Dean was one of the most intriguing men he’d ever had the chance to study. Dean hadn’t said much, but he didn’t need to as his face was so expressive, there was no need for words. Although for the most it was an impassive mask, there were the slightest of nuances that gave a great deal away. What his face didn’t reveal his eyes did. One look into those haunted, hunted eyes and he knew you could spend a life time studying the mystery that was Dean Winchester and still have only scratched the surface. For as much as his eyes showed there was so much more that was hidden, such as the vulnerability at the core of him.

As Neal sipped his own drink he continued his scrutiny of Dean. There was something about him, a heady intoxicating mix of danger and vulnerability that made Neal almost light headed. He knew the man in front of him could kill him in a heartbeat but he felt an urge to protect him and look after him. But from what he’d read of Dean he would not thank him for it. So hel decided to give Dean what he came looking for, sex. But not the throwing each other round the apartment sex, Neal wanted to take this slower and more gentle.

Dean watched as Neal finished his drink and suddenly there was a flare of anticipation in his gut. There was a calculating gleam in those ice-blue eyes and Dean wanted to see where this went. From the moment Neal had walked into the bar he had wanted him. So when he’d made him do the running Dean had been more than happy to follow. He’d enjoyed Neal’s tentative probing conversations, his making sure that Dean would indeed be gone in the morning and that his walk on the wild side wouldn’t be waiting when the girlfriend had gotten home.

When they had been walking back to Neal’s home, Neal had accidently ‘bumped ‘ into Dean a couple of times, and Dean knew he’d been checking for weapons. He’d been impressed that Neal had found his gun, two of his knives, but he’d missed the one of them and he hadn’t found his F.B.I. badge yet. As far as Dean was concerned this was simply about getting laid. It was refreshing not to have to talk about his feelings or how he was. This was sex, pure and simple and it was fun to let someone else take the lead for a change.

Neal stepped forward and took the glass out of Dean’s hand, and they looked at one another. Dean’s eyes swept down again to look at the anklet; he glanced back and saw a slight look of consternation cross Neal’s features. “I’m not gonna ask so you don’t have to tell. Is there any chance of getting to the main event tonight? I’m kind of on a schedule.” Dean smirked at Neal, biting at his lip.

Neal put his hands on Dean’s hips and returned the smirk. He looked over at Dean’s coat and jacket, spotting where Dean had secreted his weapons. He nodded to the coats, “Likewise, and why rush, we got all night.”

Dean smiled at Neal nodded “Touché! Now, are you gonna kiss me or spend the evening shooting me longing looks? I can get that at home, so to speak.” Dean pulled Neal closer to him as an invitation.

Neal willingly accepted the invite and leaned forward for the kiss. As expected it was a duel for dominance, both men attempted to gain control of the kiss. Neal brought his hand up and cupped the back of Dean’s head and gently pressed his growing erection against Dean’s. Neal increased the pressure on those full lips, running his tongue lightly across them. Neal shifted position again, pressing harder against Dean, his other hand slipped down to cup Dean’s firm ass. At that, Dean moaned and his lips slipped apart and Neal let his tongue glide past his lips and began to take charge of the kiss. He felt Dean melting into the touches; Dean’s hands resting on his hips. Neal swirled his tongue round Dean’s, pulling his own tongue back drawing Dean’s tongue to follow.

Finally Neal broke the kiss, breathing heavily. Dean swayed slightly in the aftermath of the kiss, his green eyes darkening with arousal and he moved to undo Dean’s tie. Dean allowed him to take control, watching as Neal worked.

Slipping the tie from the collar of the button-down, Neal began to slowly open the buttons. As he did he bent forward and kissed at the skin it revealed, trailing light kisses from Dean’s jaw down his neck to where his wife beater began. Once the button-down was open completely, Neal slowly slipped it from Dean’s shoulders. He continued to rain kisses down on every available piece of newly-revealed skin he could.

Neal dropped the shirt on top of Dean’s coats. As he turned back to look at the other man it was then he noticed the bruising on the pale skin of his arms. When you did what he did for a living you accepted the risk you would be hurt, but Neal was concerned at the amount of bruising he could see and wondered what the wife beater hid. And he noticed how they ranged from fleshly blooming, to faded to a sickly yellow tinge. Dean appeared not to have noticed Neal’s scrutiny of his body; he just continued to hold onto Neal’s hips.

Neal gently ran his hand along Dean’s ribs noting the slight flinch when he found a particularly tender spot. Neal appraised the situation like he would a job. He needed to see how badly hurt Dean actually was without destroying the mood completely. Neal could sense that Dean needed what was happening here in his apartment. Something told him that the other man was close to breaking point and another rejection would shatter him completely.

He made a quick decision, and he moved back to Dean again, kissing his shoulder, moving slowly back up his neck to his ear, grazing the ear lobe with his teeth. “Want to take a shower?” Neal whispered, making Dean shiver as his breath wafted over the sensitive skin.

Dean looked amused and once again the smirk appeared, “Are you saying I smell?” His bravado was undermined by a look of tension as if he was waiting to be summarily dismissed, found wanting in some way.

“No, I just want you naked and wet. Coming?” Neal made the question a dare, knowing that Dean would never refuse it. He moved past Dean, walking towards the bathroom. He knew that Dean was following him.

Once in the bathroom Neal waited for Dean. Once Dean joined him, he again moved up close to Dean, captured those addictive lips of his again. Neal kissed Dean and his hands moved to his belt, his nimble fingers madeshort work of Dean’s belt and the button and flies on his dress pants. Soon Dean found his pants were on the floor and Neal pulled him forward so he stepped out of them.

Dean looked down at himself as he stood there in his wife beater, boxers, shoes and socks. Neal was still fully clothed, “How come I’m the only one getting naked here? When you said naked and wet I thought you meant both of us? So you do think I smell.” Dean smiled as he spoke.

Neal started to get undressed, “As hot as you are, even you are going to have trouble pulling off the whole sex with the socks on thing. Besides, they’ll get wet in the shower.” Neal took off his own shirt and pants. He was soon naked and watching Dean as he looked appreciatively at him.

Dean was impressed with Neal’s body - athletic, graceful, and his mouth watered at the sight of Neal’s cock. It was erect and he just wanted to taste it. He quickly finished getting undressed himself and stood staring into Neal’s blue eyes.

Neal quickly turned on the shower once Dean finished stripping, setting the temperature so it was not too hot then he took Dean by the hand and led him into the shower. Once they were both under the warm spray, he began to explore Dean’s body. He had been shocked when he finally saw the full extent of the bruising, so he used the chance to run his fingers over Dean’s body to check the man was alright. He was careful of the claw marks he saw there. They were red and painful looking, running along Dean’s ribs. So that’s what had made him flinch. Neal knew that Dean didn’t want a nurse maid and he was more than ready for this but it didn’t mean that he had to add to the damage already there.

Neal gently pushed Dean up against the wall, slipping his leg between Dean’s. He kissed Dean hard, leaving him breathless, his hands skimming down Dean’s body. Without a word Neal stepped back and spun Dean round so he faced the wall of the shower, pushing him against it. He then proceeded to kiss his way down the muscular back, running his hands down his back, coming to halt on Dean’s ass, gently squeezing the firm globes.

Dean groaned at the way Neal was touching him; it was driving him crazy. Each soft, deft touch was making his skin tighten and tingle, the talented fingers seemed to be everywhere at once. When Neal had spun him round he fully expected to be fucked where they stood. Had the roles had been reversed Dean would have indulged in a little ‘clean’ fun. Instead, Neal had continued with his teasing touches, covering every inch of him with kisses. What with that and the warm water that cascaded over his skin Dean wondered how much more he could take.

Neal could hear Dean’s breathing becoming rapid and uneven; he shuddered as Neal pressed up against his back his cock rubbing up and down the crease of his ass as Neal held onto Dean’s hips. Neal gently bit the back of Dean’s neck, causing him to moan with pleasure.

Neal pulled Dean away from the wall and snaked his arm round Dean’s waist. Tilting his head to one side, he kissed Dean’s neck and moved lower to the junction between his shoulder and neck. His other hand stroked up Dean’s athletic torso. Neal felt muscle there, not the kind sculpted in the gym but from the result of hard physical labour. His fingers traced the abs, and traveled higher. He teasingly stroked at the nipples, giving them a playful pinch making Dean shudder again. He gave one final nip at Dean’s shoulder, he let go of Dean and turned him round so they were face to face. His cock throbbed with need, and he could see how hard Dean had gotten.

Neal held Dean close, never letting his eyes leave Dean’s for a second. He rubbed against Dean, their cocks slid together, the contact caused Dean’s eyes to roll back and he gave a slight whimper. Neal moved his hand lower and grasped both cocks in his hand. Dean’s head fell forward, resting on Neal’s shoulder as he began to stroke up and down, slowly at first, squeezing gently, coaxing both of them towards orgasm.

“Dude, are you trying to kill me?” Dean mumbled into his neck, and Dean thrust up into Neal’s hand causing Neal to groan at the friction on his own cock with the movement. Dean lifted his head and grinned at him and rolled his hips again, grinding against Neal even harder, making Neal whimper. “Can’t let you do all the hard work, man.” With that, Dean took Neal’s face in his hands and planted a heated, open-mouthed kiss on his lips, nipping and sucking at Neal’s bottom lip, all the while moaning as he sped up his thrusts into Neal’s fist.

Neal gasped when Dean moved, his hips snapping up as he pumped at both cocks with increasing speed. Dean’s sinuous movements were helping to bring Neal rushing towards orgasm; he could feel it approaching, burning low down in his gut. He gave a twist on the two cocks, attempting to regain control of the situation, knowing the Dean was dictating the pace. Well, two could play that game. Neal twisted his wrist again and flicked at the slit in Dean’s cock with his thumb, making Dean moan low and almost pained. Neal could feel Dean’s movements becoming jerky and he knew it wouldn’t be long before Dean came. Determined that they would come together, he returned Dean’s kiss, and increased the pressure and pace from his hand. He felt his own balls tighten and then Dean’s hands flew up to his shoulders, hanging on desperately to him. Dean threw his head back and Neal seized the chance to lean forward and kiss his neck. Neal felt himself start to come so he bit down on Dean’s neck. The sudden sharp pain tipped him over the edge with Neal; he felt come splattering over their bodies and then being washed away by the shower.

They stood clinging to one another as their orgasms ripped through them. Neal wasn’t sure who was holding who up as he continued to gently stroke their cocks through the aftershocks. He stilled when he heard Dean whimper slightly from too much stimulation. Dean’s head had fallen forward again, resting on Neal’s shoulder, his legs wobbly. Neal didn’t feel in much better shape; he knew they needed to get out of the shower before they ended up in a tangled heap on the floor. He reached past Dean’s slumped form and turned the water off. Managing to make his legs work, Neal pulled Dean out of the shower with him.

“Hey, are you still with me? I thought you wanted to get to the main event. This was just the hors d’oeuvre; the main course is yet to come.” Neal stroked Dean’s face, and Dean leant into the touch, quivering slightly at the contact.

“Huh, I’m more of a cheeseburger man myself but I always leave room for pie.” Dean’s green eyes had focused again, and they sparkled with mischief.

Neal laughed softly and picked up a towel. He quickly dried himself down and moved Dean to stand in front of him. Dean found himself standing in front of the bathroom mirror, taking in the sight of all the damage to his body and how tired he looked. He blushed and looked away; he didn’t need reminding of his life at that moment in time.

Neal had picked up another towel and he began to dry Dean off; Dean went to take the towel from him, “Hey, I can dry myself off, dude. I thought we were getting to the main course?” Neal stilled his hand by placing his own over the top of it. Dean was still looking over his shoulder at Neal.

Neal kept looking at the mirror, not meeting Dean’s eyes. Finally Dean got the message and turned back to the mirror. When he was looking in the mirror Neal pressed his lips to Dean’s ear, “You do know how beautiful you are, don’t you? I expect you hear it all the while, but it doesn’t mean it’s not true. Now just relax and enjoy yourself, Dean.” The hushed words brought goose bumps up on Dean’s skin. He felt his eyes slip closed at Neal’s presence behind him. When Neal didn’t move Dean opened them once more.

Neal started to dry Dean off, using slow and gentle strokes down his body, his one hand rested on Dean’s hip. Neal kept eye contact with Dean, watching him react to each touch. He was very responsive to the contact, Neal let the towel fall to the floor. Neal trailed his fingers down Dean’s chest, causing his breath to hitch. He let his thumb brush across his other hip, and slowly Dean’s cock twitched. He feathered a row of light kisses across the back of Dean’s neck and once again he gave a soft moan that almost turned to a purr.

Neal was studying Dean in the mirror, and he realized why Dean was so responsive to touch. He’d seen it before. Starve someone of physical affection and any touch was almost overwhelming. Neal continued to let his hands play over Dean’s bruised flesh, careful not to press too hard on the worst of the marks. Finally Dean was practically squirming in front of the mirror, his face flushed and his pupils dilated. He was biting and licking at his lips and Neal slowly brought his hands higher up his body caressing and stroking his fingers over his nipples, twisting them slightly between his fingers causing Dean to keen softly.

While Neal had been tormenting him Dean had watched him through the mirror, looking for any sign of pity in his blue eyes. Instead, all he saw was heat in those eyes as he continued to work Dean over. He felt helpless in the other man’s arms, and he didn’t want it to stop. It felt good to have someone take care of him, if only for the one night.

Neal pressed close to Dean and he took this opportunity to tease Neal. He began to rub his ass slowly up and down against Neal’s cock, feeling it twitch and slowly stir back to life. Dean used the mirror the same way Neal had to judge the effect he was having on the other man. Dean was still deciding whether he was going to be fucked or do the fucking tonight. Dean bent forward slightly, bracing his arms on the vanity unit, grinding his ass even harder against Neal. Dean let his eyelids flutter and tilted his head back, elongating his neck. Through half-closed eyes he watched Neal’s control start to slip, he ran his tongue over his lower lip before biting down on it and moaning softly.

Neal gave a moan answering Dean’s, a flush crept over Neal’s pale skin and Dean was enjoying watching his composure slip. It was time to take this to the bedroom; there was no way he was going to be fucked over the bathroom sink, tempting as it would have been to watch Neal through the mirror. “I don’t know about you but I think it’s time we took this show on the road. Bedroom, or would you like a performance right here?” Dean’s voice had dropped to a growl.

The sound of Dean’s voice snapped Neal out of the haze that had washed over him. He’d been so busy watching Dean in the mirror he’d started to lose control. He’d gripped Dean’s hips so tightly that there would be fresh bruises. But, judging by the way Dean had just moved even faster he wasn’t going to be complaining any time soon. After Dean had spoken Neal took him by the hand, and walked him out of the bathroom. He turned out the light, leaving the towels on the floor. Normally he would never dream of leaving the room in a mess. Sadly, he knew that the towels would still be on the floor tomorrow but Dean would be gone.

Dean let himself be led, following Neal, wondering where this was going to go. He was impressed with how Neal had taken charge again. No hesitation, just doing what he needed. Neal led them to the king-sized bed. Like the rest of the apartment the room was simply decorated and elegant; almost like the man, Dean thought. Neal turned on the lamp on the bedside table. Good! Dean wanted to see what Neal was going to do. Dean found himself being manoeuvred back towards the bed, once again Neal’s hands almost danced over his skin. Damn! That guy had a thing about touching him and every touch felt like it had set a trail of fire racing across his skin. By the time the back of Dean’s legs had hit the bed he was convinced his knees were going to give out.

This was it - the moment of truth. Dean reached out and pulled Neal close to him and this time he initiated the kiss. He pressed his lips to Neal’s and swept his tongue over his lower lip, demanding entrance. Neal submitted to the insistent pressure. When he did he was almost overwhelmed. Gone was the meek, submissive, lost man. In his place was a fierce, confident lover. Dean’s hands began to repay the compliments Neal had paid him, moving with assurance, stroking and caressing every sensitive part of his body. Dean’s hands ran the length of his back, stroking his ass. Dean dominated the kiss, his tongue flicking in and out of Neal’s mouth, imitating just what he wanted to do to Neal. He wanted to fuck the gorgeous man he held in his arms, but he held back, unsure of his ability to control himself at the moment. All his life consisted of was fighting and right now Dean wasn’t a hundred percent sure he could trust himself not to hurt Neal.

Dean broke the kiss and Neal’s legs buckled as he clung to Dean for support. He managed to focus on Dean after a couple of seconds, shock plain in his eyes, “Where the hell have you been hiding? Does Dean let you out to play often?” Neal found his voice and his balance at the same time. He was just about to hurl himself on the bed, point to where the condoms and lube were and let Dean do what the hell he liked. Damn, he’d been played! He was impressed by Dean, and really thought the man was on the edge, but this was a man in control of himself.

Then Neal had looked into Dean’s eyes and he saw a conflict raging there. Want and desire battled with fear and hesitation, and he knew instinctively Dean was scared of hurting him. The ball was in Dean’s court now; he was pretty sure what he read wasn’t that far wrong. He looked at Dean differently now. He saw a warrior returned from a long, hard war - a war that still raged and Dean hadn’t escaped it which would explain the injuries he carried.

Before Neal could move to the bed Dean’s voice stopped him, “Neal, I want you to fuck me. No holding back. I want to feel you. I need to feel you. Can you do that for me?” The voice was raw, pained and full of need; its timbre sent arousal coursing through Neal’s body.

They stood looking at one another, the silence stretched to breaking point, and then Neal moved forward decisively. He pulled Dean back for another kiss. This time there was little tenderness there, instead there was passion, raw and aggressive. Neal took complete control, his tongue pushing past Dean’s lips. Dean sucked on Neal’s tongue, letting him know he was in charge now. They broke away from one another, panting.

“On the bed! Now!” Neal ordered Dean. He sat down and lay in the centre of the bed, looking up at him. The smirk was back, along with a glint in his eye.

“Well, come on then, or are you all talk?” Dean made the challenge and licked his lips in anticipation as Neal opened the bedside drawer and fetched out a bottle of lube and a condom. Neal climbed on the bed and straddled Dean’s hips. Looking down at him, he gave a wicked smile before crawling up over Dean’s body. He knelt level with Dean’s shoulders, feeling his thigh muscles burn with the strain of the position he was in, but he really wanted to see what Dean’s mouth could do.

Neal placed his hand on the wall to steady himself and leant forward, and brushed Dean’s lips with the tip of his cock, rubbing slowly back and forth in a teasing gesture; suddenly Dean’s tongue snaked out and ran up over the head. Neal paused in his movement, letting Dean run his tongue over the underside of the head, pressing against the sensitive glands there. Neal pushed forward slightly and Dean opened his mouth and his cock was engulfed by Dean’s lips. Neal rocked back and forth gently, allowing Dean to get used to the motion before thrusting forward and a little deeper. Dean adjusted to the penetration and Neal felt Dean’s mouth working on him

God! Dean’s mouth was amazing, the way he sucked and nibbled, his tongue twirling over the head when Neal pulled back. While Neal had been fucking Dean’s mouth, Dean had brought his hands up and they were holding his ass, not to slow him but to support him, his fingers stroked back and forth. Neal looked down to watch Dean, watching the way his lips were stretched around the girth of his cock; they were swollen and gleamed with saliva, then Dean scraped his teeth gently over the sensitive skin of his cock. Neal’s head fell back and he groaned. He pulled out of Dean’s mouth, not wanting to come that way but if he didn’t stop Dean now it would all be over.

When Neal had pulled out of Dean’s mouth, he had lifted his head chasing after him, his tongue giving one final lick at the head, catching a drop of pre come that had formed like a pearl. Dean let his head fall back, licking his lips, leaving them glistening in the lamp light. Dean’s chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, and before he knew it Neal was snaking back down his body. As Neal moved down he traced the bruises on his skin with light kisses and gentle touches. He was taking his time, mapping out each mark, pressing against the fresher bruises with his tongue, causing Dean to hiss at the touch. He felt pain bloom and rapidly fade when Neal then kissed the same area, soothing away the fresh hurt.

Neal took his time, so that when he moved lower he wanted Dean to be flying by the time he was ready to fuck him. Judging by how his hands had fisted in the covers and were white knuckled he was well on his way to his objective. By the time Neal was lying between Dean’s parted thighs he was trembling with arousal. Neal casually reached up and gently stroked Dean’s nipple with his fingers, making him arch up off the bed, “Fuck me!” Dean’s voice was a breathy rasp after swallowing Neal’s cock.

“I fully intend to, you just be patient there.” Neal heard muttered curses and licked the inside of Dean’s thigh making him twitch and swear. Neal grabbed the bottle of lube, flicking the cap open he poured a generous amount onto his fingers then slowly ran his finger over Dean’s puckered entrance. With each pass he felt tremors run down Dean’s body. He contented himself with tormenting Dean, circling the tight hole, applying the slightest of pressure but never breaching it. Neal moved himself higher, his breath ghosting over the hard length of Dean’s cock. With each exhale, it twitched and pre come started to well up in the slit. Neal licked from the base to the tip, flicking his tongue in the slit, and made Dean tremble even more.

When Dean relaxed Neal did it again and this time Dean arched up off the bed as he did so. Neal opened his mouth and let Dean’s cock slip inside as he did that he pushed his finger inside of Dean. Neal sucked at Dean’s cock while pumping his finger slowly in and out, gently stretching at Dean’s tight hole, picking up a little speed. Neal withdrew his finger and pushed two inside, keeping a low rhythm and carefully scissoring his fingers to continue stretching him open..

When Neal had licked at his cock Dean had thought what the hell? Then the second time when Neal had just sucked him straight down, Dean had nearly screamed, the sound dying in his throat when he felt Neal push his finger inside at the same time. He didn’t know whether to thrust down Neal’s throat or rock back onto his finger so he shuddered back and forth as Neal had worked him open. Then with the addition of a second finger the burn had increased before dying back to pleasure. Dean was aware that Neal had stopped sucking his cock and was now busy licking and nibbling at his inner thigh, suddenly Neal sucked hard enough to leave a mark. As he did that he pushed a third finger in and brushed over his prostate. Dean did scream at that, and Neal just kept rubbing over his prostate again and again. Dean tried to get away from what Neal’s mouth and fingers were doing but he kept on going, never letting up until all Dean could do was whimper with pleasure and need. Finally Dean found his voice.....”For fuck’s sake, please.....”

Neal had watched as Dean had started to come apart but kept on moving his fingers back and forth, carefully stretching the tight channel of muscle. Neal wanted to feel him and he would, but he had no intention of hurting Dean. When Dean begged, Neal slowly withdrew his fingers, Dean whimpered at the loss of contact. Neal saw his eyes flicker open to follow what was happening. Neal got onto to his knees, picked up the condom, tore open the foil and slowly rolled it down his own throbbing erection. Neal needed to be inside of Dean now; he picked up the bottle of lube and poured some onto his cock. He placed it on the bedside table out of the way.

Neal placed Dean’s legs over his shoulders and lifted his ass slightly off the bed. He lined himself up and slowly pushed into Dean’s tight heat. Neal’s head fell forward as he pushed inside. Even with all the preparation Dean was still so very tight. Neal kept driving forward until he felt his balls smack against Dean’s ass. He let his head rest on Dean’s shoulder, his lips brushing over his collar bone.

Dean panted as Neal penetrated him, feeling his ass burn and stretch as Neal pressed on. When he felt Neal balls hit his ass he shuddered, slowly relaxing around Neal’s cock. He needed Neal to move, he wanted to feel alive, “Jesus, fuck...” His voice was wrecked and he knew he was pleading.

Neal lifted his head looked into Dean’s hazy eyes, “No... Neal... but since you asked so nicely.” Neal slipped his arms under Dean and curled his hands round his shoulders and with that he pulled back then rocked his hips forward. Neal pulled back again and began to set a steady rhythm, his thrusts slow and measured. Neal could see Dean’s fists gripped even tighter on the covers. Neal felt Dean rock back against him, setting up a counter rhythm of his own. Neal began to pick up speed and power with each stroke; he changed the angle so with each thrust he brushed against Dean’s prostate.

As Neal pounded into his ass, Dean saw stars; he was hitting his sweet spot over and over and he could only whimper and hold onto the covers as if his life depended on it. Dean managed to rock into Neal adding even more friction against his prostate; he bit down on his lower lip to stop himself from screaming the place down. His ass clenched on Neal’s cock as he arched up towards him.

When Neal saw Dean bite down on his lip he leant forward and sucked the lip into his own mouth, worrying at Dean’s lip with his teeth. Just then Dean arched up and his ass muscles gripped him tighter. Neal growled softly and pushed Dean’s legs higher. Nearly folding him in half, he fucked Dean with abandon. The thrusts came faster and harder now, and with this new position he struck Dean’s prostate with force. Neal knew he couldn’t last much longer, the noises Dean made, the whimpers and soft growls were pushing him closer to the edge with each thrust, “Touch yourself for me, Dean”

At Neal’s order Dean’s eyes flew open. They had slid closed at some point, and he’d been watching the fireworks display that had been going on behind his eyelids. Somehow he managed to prise the hand loose from his death grip on the covers and his right hand inched towards his cock. After what seemed an age Dean’s fingers closed round it, and he began to pump it. There was no style or finesse, just the raw need to come.

When Dean began to fist his cock, Neal felt the tell-tale signs of his orgasm building. His balls began to tighten, and Neal managed to move even faster, knowing that Dean would feel this every time he moved tomorrow. He let Dean’s legs slip from his shoulders and just concentrated on taking Dean over the edge with him. Somehow Dean managed to wrap his legs round his waist, and pulled Neal even closer to him, encouraging Neal to fuck him harder.

The rhythm of Dean’s hand started to falter, and the pressure on Neal’s cock increased. Dean threw his head back and made a low keening moan as he shook apart beneath Neal. Neal felt the first stirrings of Dean coming when Dean became even tighter and the muscles in his ass seem to pulse. Dean’s breath hitched and Neal felt come spurting up over their bodies, covering them with the force of his orgasm.

As Dean came, his eyelids fluttered and his mouth opened in a silent scream. He tried to draw breath, but the sheer power of his orgasm had stolen his ability to make a sound. His legs slipped from round Neal’s waist and his right hand stopped and fell limply to his side as Neal continued to fuck him hard and fast.

Neal’s own orgasm approached swiftly. His hips snapped forward another couple of times, the movements jerky and erratic. He was still hitting Dean’s prostate, making him whimper with pleasure from the aftershocks and then Neal came hard, harder than he had in a long time. He rode the sensations that tore through his body. He finally went still and collapsed onto Dean’s chest, everything fading away for a few seconds as he lay entangled in Dean’s limp body.

Neal came back to himself and found that he is still lying on top of Dean, their legs and arms entwined. After several attempts Neal managed to free his arms from where he wrapped them round Dean. He made a Herculean effort to push himself up off Dean’s chest. His heart pounded wildly and he was breathing hard. Neal slowly pulled out of Dean, his withdrawal caused Dean to whimper softly. Neal worried for a moment then Dean gave a contented sigh and turned his head to the side, his eyes closed and Neal relaxed.

Neal removed the condom from his now softening cock, ready to take it into the bathroom once he remembered how to make his legs function. Then he managed to untangle himself from Dean. He got off the bed somewhat shakily, and staggered towards the bathroom. Part of him wanted to take a shower, he could feel the sweat drying on his skin, and maybe he could even get Dean under the hot water again. But he acknowledged to himself there was no way in hell he would be able to stand up long enough, let alone haul Dean with him. He glanced over his shoulder to where Dean lay. The man looked thoroughly debauched, his skin flushed, legs akimbo, come adorning his body like a form of erotic tribal tattooing. Dean’s breathing was slowing down and Neal knew he was slipping towards sleep. He wasn’t surprised, and he wasn’t vain enough to think it was just his amazing bedroom gymnastics which were the cause; more like the war Dean fought was responsible.

He continued onto the bathroom, disposing of the condom and ran the hot tap over a wash cloth. He paused to quickly clean himself up, and retrieved something from the bathroom cabinet before he returned to the figure on the bed. Neal deftly rolled Dean onto his side, so he could pull the bedclothes down. Once Dean was lying on the sheet Neal began to carefully sponge him down.

Dean gave a sleepy mutter of complaint at the movement and the feel of the damp cloth over his overheated skin. Neal just smiled and continued with what he was doing , he wiped away the come on his chest, running the cloth down over his cock and balls, cleaning away the lube that remained. Dean’s cock gave a valiant twitch before giving up the fight.

Neal dropped the now dirty cloth on the floor; he had one more thing to do before he climbed into bed, picking up the tube of antiseptic cream he’d brought with him. He opened it, squeezed some on his fingers and applied it gently to the claw marks along Dean’s ribs; it was more for his peace of mind than any real medical care. If those injuries were infected it would be like taking a water pistol to a forest fire, but it made him feel better.

Dean moaned at the touch, and Neal softly shushed him. Dean turned his face toward him; sleepy green eyes opened and looked up at him, unfocused. “S’alright, Sammy, M’ fine. Bobby took care of me, I’m supposed to be the big brother not you.” The words were faint and slurred but Neal had understood completely what had been said. He knew in the morning Dean would never remember and he would never tell him what he’d said. Happy with what he’d done, Neal put the cap back on the tube and slipped into bed beside Dean. Pulling the covers over them both he turned out the light and moved a little closer to the other man as he turned onto his side. Neal felt his own eyes grow heavy and soon he joined Dean in sleep.

When Neal woke up early, as was his custom, he found himself still wrapped round Dean from the night before. During the night he had been disturbed by the sounds of distress coming from Dean. He had been moaning and whimpering in his sleep in the grip of a nightmare. Without thinking, Neal had moved up right behind Dean and placed his hand on his hip, “Shush now, relax, just relax.” Neal’s whispered words seemed to have the desired effect. Dean calmed somewhat and Neal had curled round Dean protectively. Now in the early morning light, Neal stole away from him carefully, watching for any sign of waking from Dean, but there was none.

Neal had known Dean was exhausted from the dark circles round his eyes and wasn’t surprised by him sleeping on. He knew under normal circumstances Dean would have been awake in a heartbeat when he moved. Neal picked up the cream from the bedside table along with his pyjama pants and silk robe; he went into the bathroom to take a shower. Once he was showered he went out into the lounge. Neal quietly prepared breakfast for two. He didn’t want Dean to just sneak away, and then he moved to where he kept his drawing pad and pencils.

His hand hovered over the pad for a moment, thinking about what he was considering. He glanced back towards the bedroom. His mind made up, he picked up the pad and silently made his way back into the room. Neal moved carefully round the room ensuring that Dean was still asleep. Happy he was, he moved a chair and sat down to draw the man on the bed.

Neal wasn’t in the habit of drawing his conquests. If he had, there would have been enough to open a select gallery; there was just something about Dean that drew him like a moth to a flame. While Neal had been gone Dean had rolled over. Now he lay on his right side facing Neal.

The sheet had slipped low, clinging to Dean’s hip, accenting his slim waist. His right arm was under his head, the left was outstretched to the empty space where Neal had been. It looked as if Dean was searching for him. Neal worked quickly, sketching in Dean’s body with broad strokes. Neal was surprised there weren’t more scars on Dean’s body, considering the life he imagined he led. He knew there was no chance he would forget Dean in a hurry but he wanted to capture him ‘live’ so to speak. When Neal came to draw Dean’s face, he slowed and took his time. He was captivated by the sleeping man, the worn-down expression was gone and his features relaxed, making him look younger and more vulnerable; his full lips were parted in sleep, his long lashes swept over his cheeks. Dean’s short hair was tousled and in the soft glow from the early morning light, he looked positively ethereal. Neal would never have said angelic as he remembered last night, but there was the hint of otherworldly about Dean and in sleep it was more apparent.

Neal was happy with his sketches’ progress, so happy he thought about turning it into an oil painting, and then he smiled at the prospect of Peter seeing it. Yes, the idea had merit, but if he did that, it would be for him alone. Just then Dean stirred in his sleep, a change in his breathing alerted Neal to the fact Dean was waking up. He swiftly stood and moved his chair back, once more slipping from the room.

Dean opened his eyes slowly. Yawning widely, he blinked as he became aware of another presence in the room. Dean sat up slowly and pushed himself back, leaning against the bedstead. Dean grinned as Neal stood by the bed, holding a small cup, “Well, good morning, Dean, coffee?” Neal’s melodic voice greeted him.

Dean stretched, his arms rising above his head, causing the sheet to slip even lower, giving the other man a glimpse of the trail of downy hair from his navel to where the sheet just covered his genitals. But with the way Dean writhed he may as well have been naked. Neal licked his lips at the sight and smiled when Dean dropped his arms and rubbed at his eyes in a rather adorable fashion. His hair was sticking up and Dean looked up at Neal sleepily; he held out his hand towards the cup.

“What’s the magic word, Dean?” Neal laughed as he spoke. Dean pouted at him, his eyes pleading.

“Is that coffee? Oh God! Please let that be coffee.” Dean’s voice was gruff and raw, Neal’s breath hitched at the sound and he handed the cup over.

“That was close enough.” Neal watched as Dean took a tentative sip at the strong black liquid. Dean’s eyes fluttered closed and he gave the most pornographic moan Neal had ever heard. It was even dirtier than the noises he made last night. Neal watched as Dean all but had sex with the coffee. His lips caressed the cup and after each sip he licked at them suggestively. Moaning again in appreciation he finally looked at Neal.

“Son of a bitch, damn, this is great coffee. Thanks, Neal. Do all your guests get this treatment?” Dean had sat back against the bed again and Neal was enjoying the view of the half-naked man, who was smirking at him.

“No, not all of them, only the ones who let me get them naked and take advantage of them. So you like Italian coffee? Well, there is a pot out on the terrace along with breakfast; you can use the shower if you like.” Neal turned to walk out of the room. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean throw the sheet back, revealing his naked form.

Neal paused to watch him. Dean swung his feet over the side of the bed, stood up and gave a full body stretch, his body arching back, flexing his broad back and shoulders. Neal enjoyed watching the muscles flex and stretch. Dean turned round and walked towards him. Dean stepped right up behind Neal; he felt the heat from Dean’s body through the silk.

Dean placed one hand possessively on Neal’s hip and the other hand coiled round the front of him and handed back the now empty cup. Dean placed a soft kiss on his neck, “Thanks for the coffee and really, why don’t you just come out and say I smell. That’s the second time you’ve wanted me to shower.”

Neal shivered at the gentle touch and he looked back at Dean, “Ok, you win. You smell. Now go shower and for God’s sake put some clothes on, you’ll scare the pigeons.” Dean tilted his head back and gave a genuine laugh, his face lit up with joy. Dean took his hand from Neal’s hip and gracefully spun on his feet. As he walked to the bathroom Neal watched appreciatively. The gunslinger’s walk from last night was back. It had been sexy last night when Dean was fully clothed; now it was positively sinful. Dean’s ass swayed and his bow legs moved fluidly. It was all Neal could do not to follow Dean; he managed to drag himself out of the bedroom before he gave into temptation.

When Dean was in the bathroom he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked a little better, the dark circles had faded somewhat. Dean touched at the claw marks on his side and felt a sticky residue on his skin. He knew what it was when he saw the tube of antiseptic cream by the sink along with a brand new toothbrush, and he smiled at Neal’s thoughtfulness. The guy was amazing. He had given Dean everything he had needed, and to cap it all he had managed a good night’s sleep. In return, he’d even stayed still when Neal had crept back into the bedroom and started drawing him. He couldn’t help but wonder how Neal saw him, he guessed he’d never know.

Dean turned on the shower, letting it warm up. He then stepped underneath the warm water, letting it wash away the sweat and smell of sex from last night, easing some of the stiffness in his muscles. When he moved his ass gave a twinge. Dean was happy about the memories from last night and how he had reacted. For once, his body carried a reminder of something pleasurable rather than just pain from constant hunts.

Neal sat on the terrace eating his breakfast, he still had his drawing pad and he was working on yet another sketch of Dean. Neal saw movement in the apartment so he put the pad inside his copy of the New York Times and started to work on the crossword. Dean stepped out onto the terrace, wearing his shirt and pants. The shirt was half open with the sleeves rolled up, giving Neal a glimpse of the wife beater beneath. When Dean sat down Neal caught the scent of his soap and shampoo along with the faint medicated smell of the cream. He smiled at Dean and poured another cup of coffee in hopes of a repeat performance from earlier.

Dean didn’t disappoint him. Once again came the breathy moan of pleasure when he took a drink, he savoured every dark, rich mouthful of the coffee. By the time Dean had finished the coffee Neal had given up all pretence of doing the crossword, “The coffee alright? Help yourself to food.” Neal nodded down at the basket of pastries and the plate of bagels.

Dean eyed the confectionery as if it was it was possessed and he thought about reaching for his flask of holy water, “Sorry it’s not a heart attack on a plate, but try some, you might even like them. I think you’ll like the pain au chocolat.”

Dean picked up one of the pastries and glared at Neal, “I thought at the very least I was worth pancakes. You’re right. I’ve been taken advantage of.”He smirked and took a bite. The bitter taste of dark chocolate exploded over his tongue and this time the moan was even lower and more heartfelt.

Neal just sat and watched possibly one of the most erotic sights he’d ever witnessed, and all Dean was doing was eating a damn pastry. His eyes were half closed, his lips curved into a wicked smile, and every so often his tongue flicked out to lick at stray flakes of pastry on his lips. Neal was convinced Dean was two seconds from coming with the sounds he made. He should know, he heard most of his repertory last night. Dean finished the pastry and grinned at Neal.

“Damn, these are great. Aren’t you having one?” Neal shook his head, lost for words. There was no way he could compete with what Dean had just done, so he was content to let him have another one or three.

Dean knew what he was doing to Neal, and he enjoyed making the calm, unruffled man lose control, so he reached for a bagel instead. Well, he had to play a little fair and he could always have another one later.

“So what do you have to do to get a place like this then? Because I had some real bad career advice by comparison.” Dean leant back in his chair and bit down into the bagel. He looked across at Neal, needing to know if he would have to bolt or would have a chance to maybe coax Neal back to the bedroom.

“Oh, that’s easy. Become an internationally renowned art thief, get caught, escape prison, get recaptured and agree to work with the fed who caught you twice. And you get to wear a lovely fashion accessory like this, which keeps you close by and then this could all be yours.” Neal’s eyes danced with mirth when he watched Dean’s face.

Dean whistled, “Ok, maybe not such bad career advice, after all. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work, then? I’m pretty sure you federal types have to start early.” His feet twitched in anticipation of making a run for it.

“Usually yes, but my partner Peter and I have had a little disagreement and this is his way of punishing me. Sit, stay, until I fetch you.” With that, Neal pointed to his phone on the table.

Dean nodded and continued to eat his bagel, “Aren’t you curious about what I do? I know you found my weapons and you’ve seen my souvenirs from my job.” Dean wanted to know what Neal thought of him, for some reason it was important to him.

Neal looked at Dean and smiled softly at him, “I think I’ll let you keep your air of mystery, Dean. I have a few ideas, and most of them involve acts of daring and heroic rescues of damsels in distress. I’d hate to find out you’re a tax accountant and you fell on a rake.” Neal gave him a teasing smile.

Dean returned the smile but his eyes were serious, “How do you know the damsels don’t need rescuing from me? I could be the bad guy.” His voice was low and melancholic. Dean felt tired again at the prospect of returning to the fight he wanted to stay here just a little while longer.

Neal watched Dean’s mood change and he answered him honestly, “Dean, I don’t know anything about your life, but what I do know is there is no way you’re a bad guy. I read people, Dean and I’m good at it, and I know you may ignore the niceties of the law, but I see a good man sitting opposite me, perhaps even one who would lay down his life for another person. That and you’re spectacular in bed and real bad guys are normally crappy in bed or so I’m told.”

Dean watched Neal as he spoke realizing there were no tricks or lies in his words. He genuinely believed he was a good man. A warmth welled up inside of him, he felt it as if he was worth more than just being Michael’s angel condom. Dean couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face; sometimes you took happiness were you found it.

“Dude, way too chick flick. Have you ever met my brother? I’m sure you two would get on like a house on fire.”

“Is he as good looking as you?” Neal asked.

“No, I got the looks and sex appeal in the family. Sammy got the brains and the ability to cause old ladies to faint at fifty paces. Any chance of another one of those chocolate rolls, I’m starving.” Dean’s grin was there in full force. Neal knew that he remembered what they were called but he downplayed his intelligence, another layer to the puzzle of the man.

Neal passed Dean the plate; he took a pastry and started to eat. Almost immediately the moans started again and once more his tongue slipped out to lick at the flakes of pastry. As Dean continued to eat Neal couldn’t take his eyes off him. Finally he sat forward, reached over the table and brushed at the crumbs on Dean’s lower lip with his thumb and as he did that Dean’s tongue darted out. He sucked Neal’s thumb into his mouth, his tongue swirling round it reminding Neal of Dean’s talents. Neal swallowed impulsively, as he felt himself growing hard at this display, and he thought: to hell with it. I’m only human. Neal was about to stand up and drag Dean back into the bedroom when his phone rang.

“You have got to be kidding me; I was just going to have my wicked way with you.” Dean had let go of Neal’s thumb and he sounded disappointed as he spoke. Neal was hoping it was Mozzie but when he looked at the display he saw Peter’s name.

He looked at Dean with regret and answered the phone “Hi Peter, no, I’m not doing anything important. What? An hour? Ok, I’ll see you then. Bye, Peter.” Neal disconnected the call.

Dean was watching in amusement, “So, nothing important. Damn! I’m insulted now, and I was going to let you rip my clothes off again.” He gave a mock sigh but there was regret in his eyes too.

Neal knew that this was going to be goodbye. Dean couldn’t afford to be around when a real Fed appeared. He’d felt the shape in Dean’s pocket and guessed at a fake F.B.I. I.D. He waited to see what Dean would do next. Would he take a risk and head back to the bedroom or go? Neal hoped he would go; he liked Dean too much to see him get caught by Peter.

Dean gave Neal a quick smile, “Well, that looks like my cue to go, Neal. Shame about round two being a bust.” Dean knew he had to go. He didn’t want to get Neal in trouble by being here when his fed partner arrived. He stood up.

“Dean, wait a moment please....” Neal quickly ripped off part of his pad and wrote out his number on the scrap of paper along with his name. “If you’re ever back in New York and you don’t want to drink alone, here’s my number.” Neal held the paper out, wondering if Dean would take it, or even if he would keep it. Neal wanted to offer Dean a safe haven if he came back this way again.

Dean took the offered number, “Thanks, Neal. I’ll do that next time I’m here.”He felt the lie slip out easily. He wouldn’t call because he didn’t want to endanger Neal. People who got too close to him tended to get hurt. He was just about to walk away when he stopped; Dean turned back and bent over the top of the breakfast table. He gently took Neal’s face in his hand and placed a tender kiss on his lips, it was a gentle kiss goodbye. Dean stepped back and walked to the door.

“Dean, good luck wherever you end up next.” Neal spoke softly.

Dean looked back a final time and the smile he gave Neal was wistful, “So long, Neal, thanks for everything.”

Dean stepped back inside the apartment and quickly finished getting dressed. He looked round one last time, committing every detail of the place to memory. He could never thank Neal enough for what he’d given him. Hell, the sex had been awesome but for one night Dean had had real peace. He knew the nightmares had come for him but there had been a gentle voice and a comforting touch and the nightmares had faded. He knew that it was a one-off. You never escaped what he had done but Neal had made him feel alive and in his own way he had given Dean a reason to go on fighting. Shit, the sex and coffee alone was worth kicking Lucifer’s ass for, but Neal’s simple faith in his being a good man made him determined to push forward and clean up the mess he’d started down in hell. He stared down at Neal’s number. He thought about throwing it away, and then he opened his wallet and tucked it away safely. Dean didn’t have the space in his life for keepsakes but he really wanted a reminder of the man sat outside in the pale New York sunlight.

Dean gave a sigh as he switched on his phone and winced at the sheer volume of missed calls from Cas. Ah well, time to get back to reality. He pressed the speed dial “Hi Cas. I was wondering if you could come and get me from....” Dean blinked and stepped back as Cas appeared right in front of him, fixing him in place with his piercing blue eyes. “Dude, how many more times? Personal space.”

Dean gave the angel a nervous smile and waited for him to start, “Dean, I’m not a taxi service for you to summon when you don’t wish to walk.” Cas spoke, his irritation plain in his tone. Dean was suddenly seized by the image of Cas with a bright yellow trench coat and an orange taxi light strapped to his head and tried hard not to smile.

“Sorry Cas, but from the amount of calls you made I thought it might be important and I knew you’d want to get on the road quick. You know time and Apocalypse wait for no man.”

Cas gave a sigh and rolled his eyes. Dean tried his hardest not to smile at the very human gesture of frustration, and “Dean, why was your phone switched off and what are you doing in this man’s apartment?” Dean tried to look innocent.

“Huh? Oh, I... err... must have switched the phone off by accident and I had a few drinks with a buddy. Anyway, what is so important you rang me.....” Dean glanced at his phone and whistled “seventy-five times...what! Has Lucifer taken up residence at Hugh Heffner’s place? Damn, Cas. We gotta hurry and save those poor innocent bunnies.”

Cas drew in a deep breath, attempting to hold onto his serenity when faced with Dean, “There’s a nest of vampires in New Orleans.” Cas intoned, as if it was the most earth-shattering news he’d ever heard.

Dean’s eyebrows raised and he looked at Cas as if expecting some more. Finally “Wow, that’s original. Vamps in New Orleans. Does Anne Rice know? She might want to sue for copyright.”

Cas just looked at him, perplexed at the comment. Dean shook his head, “Never mind. What’s so damned important about a bunch of Vamps in the Big Easy? Hell, they’re almost a tourist attraction down there these days; you know, Twilight and all that shit.”

Cas took a calming deep breath and counted to ten before resuming the conversation. He was using some advice of Sam’s when it came to dealing with Dean. It went along the lines of you can either smack him round the head or count to ten. Cas had taken the non-violent option as he was sure that Sam would be angry with him if he took Dean’s head from his shoulders. Although, by now he was up to over one hundred thousand and he still didn’t feel that much better.

“These Vampires are attempting to combine themselves with Werewolves to make themselves more powerful.” Cas reached out towards Dean, ready to transport them.

Dean held out his hand in a stop gesture, his eyebrows had shot so high it was almost impossible to see them. Then he smiled a crooked smile at the angel and Cas sighed softly, waiting for what was to come.

So does that make them Vampweres or Wolvires? “Dean started to laugh at that.

“Shut up, Dean” Cas placed his hand on the hunter’s shoulder and they vanished.

Neal sat outside, waiting for Dean to leave. He knew it would be easier on both of them if he stayed out of the way while Dean got ready and left. He heard Dean’s voice. It sounded as if he was on the phone to someone. Maybe he was working with a partner and was now arranging to meet up and move on. Suddenly Neal heard the sound of Dean’s laugh in the apartment and the sound tugged at him then he knew Dean was gone; he sat still for a few minutes, gathering himself together to go back into the empty room. He missed having someone round and although he could never imagine Dean being domesticated, Neal knew life would never be dull with him around.

Neal stood up and cleared away the breakfast, he didn’t want Peter to realize he’d had company when he called. Neal worked quickly and soon all evidence of Dean’s night there was gone. All that remained were the sketches and Neal made certain that a couple of them were carefully hidden away. He dressed rapidly and returned to the table. While he waited for Peter to arrive he started drawing again - small studies of Dean, different expressions from his head thrown back, laughing to the melancholy smile he gave Neal before he walked away.

Neal lost track of time as he drew. When the door knocked hewas startled by the loud sound in the silent apartment. He gathered the drawings together and left them on the table, he wasn’t too concerned if Peter saw them. He answered the door and his partner stood smiling at him, “Good morning, Peter, come in, I’ll just fetch my jacket.” Peter stepped in and closed the door behind him. Neal walked into the bedroom to finish getting ready.

“Morning, Neal. Look, sorry about the summons. I really was going to let you have the morning off after your good work on our last case.” As Peter spoke he had wandered over to the table and was flicking through the pile of drawings there. Neal walked out of the bedroom and smiled at Peter as he dropped the drawings, looking a little guilty.

Peter returned the smile and looked back at the drawings. He picked up one of them, it was one of Dean, smiling. “Someone I know? He looks vaguely familiar for some reason.” Peter tilted his head, trying to figure out where he knew the face from.

Neal felt a flicker of panic run through him. Shit! He should have thought about Dean possibly being wanted by the feds, it had never occurred to him when he left the drawings for Peter to see. Now there was the chance he had just put Dean under the spotlight, and, knowing Peter, he would pursue his gut feeling.

Peter continued to stare at the drawing, puzzling over where he had seen the man before, “By the look of the guy I’ve probably seen him on a billboard or even at one of Elizabeth’s parties that I’ve been dragged to. Is he a friend of yours?” Peter was curious and wondered if it was an associate of Neal’s he’d missed.

“No, not really. I met him in a bar last night and we got talking. By the way, sorry about that.” Neal was hoping his trip to the end of his chain would distract Peter from Dean.

Peter waved a dismissive hand in Neal’s direction, “Don’t worry. I was going to say sorry to you for me being a complete ass to you yesterday. Well, actually Elizabeth told me to say sorry. So your little trip close to the wire was the least I deserved. I know you didn’t stay long. I was just getting ready to come and fetch you when you came back here.”

“I only stayed for one drink, realized I was being as ass and came back. Jason had a plane to catch and was leaving; besides I didn’t want to drag you away from Elizabeth.” Neal shrugged his shoulders; he could afford to tell the ‘truth’ because his anklet would tell Peter how long he’d been.

“Jason? Oh him, right? You know there are a hell of a lot of drawings for ten minutes, Neal.” Peter pointed to the pile of paper on the table.

“Jason had one of those faces, very expressive and it’s nice to keep my hand in at drawing.”

“Just promise me you’ll never show any of these to Elizabeth. I couldn’t stand the competition. It’s bad enough having you around.” Peter was sorting through the drawings.

“Now Peter, Elizabeth adores you, you know that.” Neal smiled fondly at the agent.

“Nice of you to say, but she’d drool over this guy. Anyway, why so many drawings? Surely his face wasn’t that expressive?”

Neal smiled. If only Peter knew. He decided to indulge Peter’s curiosity and draw him further away from asking about Dean. “Alright then, when you’re an artist and especially if you’re a forger, some faces stick in your mind. So no matter who you are painting they end up looking like that person.”

Peter nodded in understanding, “Kind of like you trying to fake the Last Supper and Jesus ends up looking like this guy, right?”

Neal laughed at the thought of Dean being compared to Jesus. “Yeah, kind of like that. Well, when that happens I find the best thing to do is to keep drawing the face until you get it out of your system, and you can return to faking the old Masters with absolute freedom and have no worries he will appear in the background somewhere.”

While Neal had been talking Peter had been admiring the drawings. Neal was a very skilled artist and Peter always had a nagging suspicion that there was a Neal Caffrey original hanging in a gallery somewhere.

Peter came to the last drawing; he looked at it and gave a smile. Neal’s stomach dropped a little. Had he inadvertently left one of Dean in bed in there after all? He wondered how to explain that to Peter.

Peter slid the drawing towards Neal; Neal looked down and frowned at it. “Something you want to tell me, Neal?” Peter enquired and he saw a look of genuine shock cross his friend’s features at what he saw.

“I never even realized I was drawing that. Well, I’ll be damned.” Neal picked up the sketch and studied it closely.

“Who is it supposed to be, Neal? And will I be hearing that either the Vatican or the Louvre have suddenly discovered a new Da Vinci or Raphael and are adding it to their collection. I’d hazard a guess at the subject matter...” Peter’s voice trailed away when he saw Neal’s soft smile as he looked at the picture.

“When I first saw Jason I wondered what the great Renaissance artists would have made of him. It must have been on my mind when I drew that one.” Neal shook his head slightly in wonder. He had no clear memory of drawing it as he put it back down on the table.

Peter turned the sketch back to look at it once more, “Well, come on then, don’t keep me in suspense. Who is it? Although the large wing span and fiery sword are something of a clue, which one of them is it?”

Neal pondered his drawing and what it depicted. The figure was a warrior, burning bright with purpose and resolve, and he was surprised how well Dean’s face fitted in with the image. Somehow it felt right seeing him like that, Neal looked up at Peter and furnished him with the answer to his question, “It’s the archangel, Michael.”


End file.
